


Fool Me Never

by RisuAlto



Series: Tai Lon's Story [4]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Aloth fight the LK ending, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Iselmyr ships it, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: After three years of trying to familiarize himself with working from the shadows, Aloth had a pretty good idea that he should always expect infiltrations to go wrong.  In this case, he wasn’t entirely against the idea, though everything still told him he should be.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher
Series: Tai Lon's Story [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548022
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Pillars of Eternity Prompts Weekly





	Fool Me Never

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt #0011, "Masquerade."
> 
> I'm not terribly adept at writing romance, but I tried. Tai Lon actually hasn't really fallen for Aloth yet in this (and this incident contributes to some of their initial awkwardness in Deadfire), but Aloth 100% has feelings and Iselmyr is trying hard to get him to acknowledge it.

Caed Nua was alive. Thankfully, this time, no dragons or animancy-adjacent curses were involved; it was simply the hypnotic flickers of torchlight beating like a heart and the rising and falling hum of slightly-inebriated chatter, which might have passed for breath, that made the keep seem like a living entity. 

At least, Aloth thought as he checked the ties on his mask, as far as he knew.

The approach to the keep reminded the wizard of approaching a mark. His breath was measured, his face concealed, his pulse raced hard in his throat… but the warmth that hummed under his skin had little to do with fear for his life. It was a strange, naïve sort of nervousness that was almost pleasant. Aloth felt quite alive as he drew near to the gates.

He carried no weapons and no grimoire, as he heard the Roadwarden required, and wore a mask that concealed his face from the nose upwards, and as such was allowed to pass with a simple nod from the guards. “Enjoy the party,” one of them said with a smile.

Aloth inclined his head and walked on, ignoring Iselmyr as she whispered, _Th’ lad ought ta be welcomin’ ye _back_, nay?_

“It’s a good sign he did not,” Aloth breathed, thankful when the festival chatter swept his words away like wind.

Time had not changed much about the grounds of Caed Nua, but the festival itself did bring a certain touch. There were garlands of flowers strewn across the adra pillars and the windows of the chapel; the forum hosted a play of some kind rather than a debate; and food stands lifted the scents of celebration into the air all across the keep. Aloth caught the eyes of a few passersby as he explored the place he had once called home, but no one of particular note made themselves known. It seemed the guests of the Watcher’s Dawn festival (or so Aloth heard it had been named by the locals) were as much strangers to him as they were to each other. The casual way people joined for conversation and then parted in the same breath was almost intimidating.

Still, as Iselmyr made a game of inventing life stories for everyone who offered him a drink or a dance, Aloth kept as much to himself as he could without drawing attention. While the food was tempting, and the ale given almost freely, he was waiting for one person only. He would prefer to meet the esteemed Roadwarden sober and alert.

_Yer lyke to embarrass yerself either way, lad_, Iselmyr trilled helpfully. _Ah’ve never seen ye this eager ta see a lady. Oor anouther lad._

“Thank you for the support,” Aloth hissed, crossing his arms and taking a sip of the water he’d been nursing like a spirit.

_Ah dun’t understan’! _Iselmyr continued, and Aloth suddenly was struck with the mental image of her throwing her hands up and walking away before circling back to face him. _Three years, an’ th’ best ye can give th’ Watcher is a look from b’hynd yer mask?_

Aloth’s breath caught in his throat, thick with regret for something he had yet to do. Iselmyr wasn’t _wrong._ The fabric of his deep blue tunic scrunched almost painfully under his grip as he fought to keep his posture and expression stable. It wasn’t likely anyone would notice, especially with the mask, and yet… He exhaled slowly and raised the goblet back to his lips. “I don’t want this to be connected to her,” he said, words vibrating from his lips to the tin cup. “Me. Any of it.”

Iselmyr rolled her eyes in such a way that Aloth could _very_ nearly hear, but had no time to retort. Both souls in his body seemed to breathe collectively as they caught sight of a figure making her way through the small bazaar outside Brighthollow.

It was evident that everyone knew her to be the Roadwarden—Glamfellen people were simply too uncommon and she was too well-dressed—given the way several people applauded or immediately stepped aside to let her pass. And yet she seemed to spare a smile or nod for everyone who came near enough. The dress she wore was deep blue, nearly black, with beads near the neck and wrists, and fluid in a way that reminded Aloth of the night ocean. The mask she wore was a wire piece resembling wings that covered her eyes and cradled an ice-silver gem above her brow like a crown. Being made of wire, however, most of her features were still visible through it, including her slightly freckled, pale skin and faintly blue eyes. It was as though the mask itself detailed her aversion to trickery. A proclamation to the world that she had and would always hate lying, even in jest.

She was lovely. Aloth wondered if she was comfortable in the elegant skin. Her eyes skimmed across him once, and he almost forgot to nod respectfully in acknowledgement. 

Act as one of the crowd, he reminded himself. Treat her as the Roadwarden, the Lady of Caed Nua…not as Tai Lon, his comrade and idol and closest friend.

The bustling crowd seemed to swallow her, and time moved on. Aloth found himself leaning heavily against the wall at his back. Even Iselmyr was quiet for a few moments as they both tried to process those few seconds.

Was she well? Was she happy? Were Caed Nua’s lands and people content? Were the neighbors? Had the Key realized what she—what they—had done? Did she have people around to support her in a fight if they appeared?

Did she have people _around_ at all? Aloth had heard Edér became the mayor of Dyrford, but was anyone else still close?

He bit his lip and set his attention back on the festival. And over the course of the next hour, each glimpse he caught of her only solidified the cold feeling in his stomach. The Watcher drifted between guests and conversations with almost the same fluidity she avoided enemies in battle, never getting too deeply entangled with anyone at all. Her smiles cycled through the same degrees of polite interest, and the few times she was close enough for Aloth to hear, her conversations were shallow enough that they may as well have not flowed at all.

Tai Lon’s patience for diplomacy had always been short—she deployed it out of necessity rather than joy—but never had Aloth seen her mask set so tight against her skin that he wasn’t sure it could be removed. 

_Ah dinnae see any tyes, _Iselmyr said as though brushing the remark from a shelf. _Looks ta be pens houldin’ that mask._

“That’s not what I meant,” Aloth sighed.

“Then I’m curious,” said a mild voice, and Aloth was grateful for the wall behind him, as it kept him from jumping away. “What _did_ you mean? And whoever are you talking to?”

“I—” Aloth froze, fingers going rigid around his now-empty glass as he stared through glittering black wires into the blue eyes of the Watcher herself. Her bare shoulder nearly brushed the wall as she shifted her weight, arms crossing casually across her chest in a way Aloth knew was not casual at all. Around the first finger of her right hand rested a familiar, imperfect silver ring, though he tried not to let his gaze linger. She was smiling up at him, but only barely, and her posture was wound with suspicion. Aloth shook his head and then averted his eyes respectfully. “Milady,” he said, settling his voice as far back in his throat as it would go. “I didn’t notice you approach.”

She tilted her head _just_ slightly, and Aloth noticed a braid tucked behind one ear, no bigger than the width of a finger. That was new. But he didn’t have time to wonder on it any further when she continued, “Really? Because _I_ have noticed you several times. Watching me, specifically. And I can’t help but wonder what kind of man comes to a party only to watch its host.”

“I see nothing gets past you, Roadwarden,” Aloth said, thankful for Iselmyr’s strength to keep his voice from wavering. A part of him was also relieved to know she was still alert, still the same cautious, shadowy force of nature, never letting details escape her attention. “Please, let me assure you I meant no harm. I’ll be on my way.”

“You…” Eyes suddenly wide and alert, she drew back quickly as though struck by a static charge, and Aloth nodded again before attempting to brush past her and leave. He had seen enough; she was alive and well-protected and Caed Nua still stood as a beacon to all around it. She had seen _too_ much. But he was stopped by a sudden tug on his arm. She had snatched it just before he could leave her reach, and she quickly took a step forward to relieve the awkward angle.

But she didn’t let go. Her fingers were warm, even in the spring air, but her grip wasn’t tight like she wanted to restrict or restrain him. It was the same way she used to grip his arm when steadying him after a fight or jostling him as a joke. Strong, but not threatening. Aloth knew he should have pulled away the instant she made contact, but he just set his jaw and looked into her eyes instead. They were clear in the sense that she no longer carried the horrors of soul visions and unfulfilled lives, but questions clouded her whole face.

“Are you…?” she began slowly. 

Iselmyr yelled vaguely from the back of his consciousness as Aloth felt something warm in his chest at the thought that she somehow still knew him—that she hadn’t forgotten, even with so many years between their last meeting and masks between them now. But this encounter had still drawn out too long, gone further than he meant for it to, and as usual, he was closer to the situation than he wanted to be. “I’m sorry,” he said coldly. 

She did not answer. Her focus had shifted a thousand miles (or possibly years) away; it was the look that only came over her face when she was Watching someone. He was sure that she couldn’t see his face now, not in the usual sense, but she could see _him._ And there was no mask in the world one could use to hide their very soul.

So he pulled away. He gathered strength and wrenched his arm free, ducking into a crowd that was making their way towards the hedge maze. He knew well the pathway that would lead him out, exiting safely north of the keep.

Covered by the excitement and jubilance of the other guests, Aloth found the escape simple and painless for once. It was only once the festival was little more than a flicker in the distance that he allowed himself to recall that Tai Lon had whispered something as he turned his back, a question of only one word and so much surprise and hope that it hurt to hear.

_“Aloth?”_

He sighed like it could push the memory away and went to untie his mask. For the Watcher to have been so happy that he _might_ have been there only confirmed what he suspected—the past three years had been lonely for them both. He wished they hadn’t been. Tai Lon had become his best friend, and yet they had spent more time apart than together since they met. 

He wanted to see her again. Properly. But, he thought ruefully as he walked away from Caed Nua, he wasn’t looking forward to being yelled at when he did. Tai Lon had little patience for dramatics. _Aye, ye’ll deserve it, ye dunderheid!_ Iselmyr said. _But th’ lass’ll be mecht pleased ta see ye, no matter whit, an’ ye know it._

“I do,” Aloth agreed, tucking his mask away. She had said as much the day he left. If it had been anyone else, Aloth might have feared she said it only out of courtesy. But he knew her, and he believed it. She had always hated lies.


End file.
